


Oblivious or Obvious

by Ohisdiamandis



Series: Buddy's F*cking Too Gay Prank [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Camille is barely mentioned, Dirty Thoughts, Dom/sub Undertones, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Fucked Up, Louis Tomlinson in Panties, M/M, Minor mention of a character, Porn with Feelings, The boys are there for a blink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23422573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohisdiamandis/pseuds/Ohisdiamandis
Summary: For when ghost fingering or just fingering is a thing they do.OrNot really friends with benefits but Louis should really think things through and Harry should stop flirting with random people.It's all a bit fucked up.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Buddy's F*cking Too Gay Prank [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684882
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Oblivious or Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> This is not the entire work. I have about 14k worth of this sweet mess, of which only 9k are sort of organized, on the way to become an actual story. I need help cause this baby has been on my desktop for three years and it really really wants to be born. I need a beta, mostly to organize my ideas and slap me on the face, if anyone is willing, my email is ohisdiamandis@gmail.com.  
> Also, I don't think this is half as dirty as the actual story is. But maybe that's just my full-of-shit self.  
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> On another note, this characters do not belong to me. Of course. This is just for fun.

It's been happening too often lately, since they got home from their dinner night and hadn't realized they had one too many glasses of wine; they ended up in Harry's bed, seemly to sleep but in the middle of cuddling they started kissing, languid and slow.

It didn't make any sense but it was so nice, their kisses so good whilst Louis was on his back, soft sheets were caressing his tights. Harry was looming over him like some kind of morning mist, subtle and ever present reaching every corner of his body with ease and he couldn't help the feelings of pure joy that came with being this desired, sexy, wanted. Wine makes their heads spin, clothes suddenly a nuance but they're just snogging, less fabric and more skin wasn't going to lead things somewhere else, right? What's some harmless fun anyways?

It's _dubious_ , the way it came out to be, especially because they didn't talk about it afterwards and wouldn't acknowledge the truth behind the drunk whispers asking for lube, pleading for another finger, the wet slide of a hand, the whimpers of sudden but muffled orgasms, making a creamy mess all over.

Even though nothing else happened, morning came and they went about their days as if they hadn't shared something so intimate with no real excuse, no real reason. Of course a couple days later they succumbed to it once again, this time they made sure at least some excuses were flying around, another three beers and they're kissing.

That's how it went the first few times, always out of the blue, after a night out, after running some errands, after yet another unpleasant encounter with Camille.

Until it came a time where it was too much work to prepare for it, especially in the middle of the day trying getting high or drunk was exhausting, just to follow through with excuses that were getting more and more ridiculous every time. They simply couldn't keep doing it like that.

Tonight though, like many others after their drunk slip up, has nothing to do with alcohol or Camille and it's actually Harry's new favorite way of doing this. At first sight, you wouldn't think anything is wrong, Louis is splayed out in Harry's lap under a couple blankets, both their eyes fixed in the new show they've been obsessed with playing in the tv.

Harry's right hand caresses and squeezes Louis' round arse all around, he thinks he's subtle surely o perhaps it's unintentional, like many of their touches are. They're tactile people, always untop of each other, connected in someway. Louis can be responsible enough of his own actions to admit he's seeking his touch too, moving his hips ever so slightly, Harry's hands getting closer to where he truly wants them.

The A.C. is on, the room nicely cooled but Louis feels like everything is set on fire with how hot, bothered he is, leaking at the tip and his imagination going wild. He doesn't know how this new discovery of pleasure was suddenly uncovered by Harry, to the point it didn't seem to involve Camille or anything else in their life other than the fact than Louis enjoys it. He doesn't understand why he wants it so. bloody. bad.

"Lou, can you pass me my phone?" Harry says all of the sudden.

He stills himself, the phone is almost all the way across the room, what is Harry doing? Louis doesn't complain anyway, getting up from the bed, his shorts look messed with, he's sure. He quickly grabs his best friend's phone, and it's not only the lockscreen wallpaper a picture of his exposed arsehole that Louis knows wasn't there mere two hours ago, but when he turns around Harry is absently holding a small lube bottle in the same hand he's holding the remote.

"Thank you, baby. Can we keep watching?" Harry smug smile should have said it all, honestly.

Louis feels his stomach drop as he nods, trying to remove his shorts as he goes back to beneath the blankets, rest his head in Harry's chest as "Narcos" starts playing once again in their Netflix account, the position they are in allows Harry to spread some lube directly into Louis most sensitive place, even under the covers. The situation is familiar, feels just like every other thing they do, Harry's touch is kind and his pace slow, gentle but so good when the first knuckle goes in.

That first push in, the adrenaline it sends through him, the sudden firm hold of Harry's hands over his own, keeping them in place over his stomach. It makes his skin burn every time he does it, knowing he won't be allowed to do anything but take it. Not that he would have dared to rub one out anyway, the same way Harry never talks dirty when they do this particular thing and it's a given in mostly everything else. Louis would most definitely die if Harry were to talk dirty to him like this, so it may be for the best that he doesn't. Otherwise, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind he would whore himself out, start to cry out and beg for... well, beg for things he should not.

For the time being, Louis is alright with steeling himself until the exact second Harry finds his sweet spot, fondling with it on and off, missing it entirely for what feels like hours, working his pace up and down until he's finally three fingers in and he knows Louis can't take it, can't think, can't breathe. Louis loves the game despite how vulnerable he feels.

It's unfair it's what it is, because Harry gets to have his eyes glued to the screen, impassive but with a little smirk on his face going at it for hours. Louis might not be the most levelheaded and concentrated lad in all the land, especially not under Harry's ministrations but he can at least keep up with one whole episode before he has to partially hide his face in Harry's chest and focus entirely on not whimpering or crying. He also tries to overlook the fact that no matter how much he might wanna wank one out and get it over with, Harry won't let go of his hands. Louis loves and hates the struggle, how he comes undone untouched and Harry doesn't even flinch to the stickiness that often stains his legs or thighs under the covers.

Louis always has this overwhelming urge to suck Harry's cock after he cums with a grunt, at the very least to get back at him for playing him this way, for twisting everything they've done 'till Louis doesn't know why he's doing it for, why let Harry get away with anything he might ask? Everything that started as a favour, a wicked plan to get that mental bird off Harry's back and try to come out unscathed from this lie, had become something else entirely.

They got themselves into this mess, mixing alcohol and nip caps with fake dating and sex, complicating things 'till Louis couldn't recall why exactly he thought it was a great idea to begin with, couldn't recall when it officially started to be the tangled chaos of feelings, desire and pretend nonchalance.

So, of course he doesn't suck Harry's cock. Not since that one time, never again no matter how much he craves the weight, the taste, Harry's moans and the way he makes him take it and— yeah _that_ , he doesn't do that.

Instead, sometimes he pretends to fall asleep and not notice the quiet way Harry removes the covers, exposing them to the cool air of the room to get himself off. He does that the same way Harry can tell when he's not asleep and pretends not to notice how he is indeed awake and preening over the attention.

He hears Harry wank until he is able to reach his relief, all too aware he's doing it while looking at the mess he made of Louis' arse, his gaping hole and lube everywhere. It's okay, neither of them has to pretend for long, it only ever takes Harry a couple minutes to cum, sometimes all over him, other times right in his hand. All Louis ever has to do is resist the urge to ask for him to cum in his mouth. At the end, it does not matter how Harry finishes because in the morning Louis will be squeaky clean with no traces of their activities left except for the dull ache of wanting something more.

Louis never acknowledges how _unhealthy_ it is.

He definitely should say something though, fucking soon too. If only for the way the situation keeps aggravating as the days go past them. Louis knew Harry would eventually pull something like this, the voyeuristic git and if he really didn't he should have at least suspected it.

It's Thursday night which is the same as unofficial movie night before smashing their faces the following night, this time they're hosting, meaning they're surrounded by the boys and should mostly definitely not be doing this. But after a few beers, Harry can get a bit adventurous, uninterestedly caressing his inner thighs and trying to lower his shorts down, enough to have easier access, squeezing his cheeks with the ghost of a slap until neither of them can make any sound or shift positions in any way because that could give them away and make them look suspicious.

This is exactly why he decided it was a game they could both play, because Harry can't be fucking trusted for shit.

Reasoning that tonight Louis Tomlinson wears knickers, ladies and gentleman. Not just any kind of knickers, he's wearing one that it's a little bit more on the small size than it should, it isn't a tong but still goes between his cheeks, tight enough that Harry will have a couple difficulties to get to his destination, it's baby blue silky soft with details in lace.

And _okay_ , maybe this could be more of an encouragement than any else, but Louis never half-asses anything, he wanted payback and he might not think things through sometimes.

"Lads, I think it's getting late. You should leave." Harry says out loud as soon as he can feel the soft edges of the pretty lace, movie in its final stages and Louis almost can't get the smug smile off his face. At least while the boys eyes are still pinned on them.

"What? We still have two movies left" Niall mutters, clearly confused, "And it's barely a quarter past nine."

"Come on, pal. There's only 7 minutes left of Iron Man." Liam whines right after. How he knows exactly how many minutes are left of the movie is something Louis decides to keep for later teasing, meanwhile he has bigger issues at hand.

"Yeah, well, for another day it is." Harry replies almost as quickly. Louis decides he needs to intervene or the boys will never ever leave.

"What Harry means is that... I'm so incredibly tired and Harry had a busy day today, so we'd like to get some rest if you will, please. I think we had enough fun for one day." He says with a smile at Niall unimpressed look and Liam's grumpy face, so he adds, "Besides, next time we could invite the other boys and make it a pizza night too."

That seems to lift at least Liam up, they grab their stuff, Niall makes a quick trip to the loo and says their goodbyes to Harry as he checks Louis hasn't got up from his comfortable position in the couch. _Of course he's gone_.

"Louis just about disappeared I guess he was really knackered, tell him we said goodbye," Liam says with a last hug before turning outside.

"Surely knackered, innit? Have good snog, H. Don't do anything I wouldn't," Niall chuckles, running downstairs after Liam, effectively escaping Harry's shove.

"Oi, that doesn't leave much things not to do, does it?" Harry shrieks to the empty hall, hoping his words had reached his friend' ears.

After the boys finally are gone, Harry cannot care for one second whether they've being caught or not. Yes, he and Louis are gonna snog the living daylights out of each other and then some, so what? Who cares if Harry thinks his best mate lips are made of sugar and his arse was heavenly crafted? Who cares if their friends suspect they kiss in private, that they're something more than just friends who fake date each other? Who cares when their friends themselves have been so nonchalant about it?

Harry's cock bounces inside his shorts, hard and dying for attention it won't yet receive, but that's okay, for now all he wants to do is go to his bedroom ASAP, delighted to find Louis laying in the mattress, supposedly reading some book Harry keeps in the bedside in nothing but a oversized Tee and knickers. Gorgeous and so delectably fuckable, Louis sits up in the bed, making damn sure Harry gets an eyeful of his lace clad underside, "Are they finally gone?" he ask with a nonchalant sigh.

"You just have to be the death of me, don't you?" Harry replies, crawling the mattress till he surprisingly grabs Louis by hips and ankle, effectively placing him underneath him, the big Tee he was wearing riding up, revealing the entirety of the lace.

Louis thinks the knickers might have worked a little too well; because then Harry does something he had never done in this situation before, with no recording phone, no prying eyes of Camille or her friends, no excuse to let his mouth run loose. Yet, Harry's dirty words leave his mouth, "Baby, of course you had to look this good wearing pretty little knickers, uh?"

Light red flushes Louis' face and neck, the best kind of giddy embarrassment filling him up because there is nothing discreet about Harry's raging boner pressing into his thigh or his lustful eyes; he can't breathe, "Haz, w-what are you doing?"

Harry shrugs, biting his lips and letting his hands roam Louis' body, "I'm trying to decide whether I want you like this or with your arse up; that would be quite a sight but– uh, yes this will do."

Louis cannot help his responsive whines, not when Harry quickly finds the hidden lube and doesn't care for pretenses, placing one of Louis' leg above his shoulder and moving the knickers aside just about enough to have access to his arsehole, sending shivers through his spine when he softly grazes it, "How is it so pink? Look at that, dear God."

The first finger is always weird as it is arousing, dragging in and out, pocking places with slightly cold lube; the second finger brings a joyous burn that turns into forbidden thoughts and it usually takes forever to join the first finger, not this time though. Louis cannot concentrate, the feelings, the burning, the moans that escape him, it's overwhelming.

Harry is not playing around, his impassive face doesn't show how different the situation is to their usual tango, how the ghosts touches are gone as he attacks his prostate with such intend Louis can't, for the life of him, keep it down. "Look how much you like it, honey. Can't even keep your voice down, can you?"

It's too embarrassing but also too hot for him not to at least nod along, unable to rest assured that if he actually attempted to reply, he could control his mouth. They're kissing and he's moaning while Harry says such dirty things and he thinks he lost his lacey undergarments some time back or perhaps they're in his thighs, by his ankles; truth be told, he can't think long enough to remember, can't think straight, not with the way he wants so much more, he knows he'd let Harry do anything to him, because he doesn't want him to stop scissoring him the way he does, like he's preparing his hole for something bigger than a couple fingers.

"God if you could only see yourself right now, all pretty and spread open for me." His tone is low, like he doesn't really want Louis to hear him talk,"—you're loving it, aren't you? Always asking for more fingers but never for what you actually want."

"Yeah? What's that that I want?" Louis breathlessly replies, capturing Harry's lips in a new kiss to avoid hearing the answer to his dumb ass question. Their tongues meet and dance together, his best mate fingers not wavering for a second in their pace and Louis almost feels like he's safe from that one until...

"You never ask for my cock; but you sure want it."

Louis cums unexpectedly and that's all he's gonna say about it, not aware enough of his surroundings to notice the way Harry also cums all over himself too; his words lost in the haze of orgasms, doomed to be overlooked like many other truths Harry utters out between filthy compliments. It's a good night, he tells himself; regardless of any other thing that could have been said or done, it's over and it was good. Fucked out Louis is bone tired, he doesn't want to move an inch, the sheets of Harry's bed so comfortable and inviting he would cry if he had to leave them. It's a boundary they're always pushing, to sleep together or to not sleep together? Louis usually forgets boundaries even exist with his best mate, especially now that the lines are blurrier than ever. Still, boundaries or not he doesn't think Harry would make him go back to his room tonight, would he? After barely cleaning them both with a soft jumper draped over a chair, Harry pulls him closer in a way they're touching everywhere, perhaps too drained to mind or get hard over it. They fall asleep cuddling, Harry's hand casually over his naked arse.

It will all be gone come morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I hope you liked it! Be sure to subscribe to the series if you want to read more about these two... sometime.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Goodbye!!


End file.
